


Taking Care of Us

by LeotheLionathefootofOrion



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Blood and Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Idiots in Love, It’s Hisoka are you surprised, Kissing, Love Declarations, M/M, Semi-Graphic Sex, Violence induced erections, can I use the tag fluff with these two?, mentions of child prostitution, taking care of each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:29:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24587620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeotheLionathefootofOrion/pseuds/LeotheLionathefootofOrion
Summary: The small ways in which they take care of each other speak volumes.
Relationships: Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck
Comments: 32
Kudos: 258





	1. Chapter 1

Illumi enters Hisoka’s Heaven’s Arena apartment through the front door, which is unusual in itself. Usually he likes to scale the building while concealing his presence to try and make Hisoka jump with surprise. He rarely succeeds, but he finds something about the process amusing. Hisoka is glad to see him no matter how he gets into the apartment, after all.

When Illumi enters this time, the magician has the television blaring out some kind of gameshow. He’s sitting cross legged on the white leather couch, applying his makeup. Illumi doesn’t greet him. Instead he reaches for the TV remote and mutes the sound. Hisoka doesn’t complain, simply setting down his palate of makeup and smiling upwards at Illumi. It’s a genuine smile. Illumi isn’t good with expressions and body language but Hisoka is simple, his motives are cleanly cut. Hisoka doesn’t try to hide anything from him, even his worst parts. Especially his worst parts.

“How was the mission, love?” He asks, voice low. Illumi is relieved by this. He can’t stand too much sound right now. Hisoka seems to know this, somehow. “You’re bleeding from your ear.”

“Oh.” Illumi hadn’t exactly noticed. On autopilot he pulls off his purple top and scatters a handful of pins on the coffee table. Wordlessly Hisoka slips off his own t-shirt (white, with “sugar baby” emblazoned on it in pink script) and hands it over. Illumi slips it over his head before the humid air can prickle his bare skin too much. “The mission was fine,” He murmurs, remembering that Hisoka had asked a question. “There was a lot of blood. You would have enjoyed it.”

“Sorry I missed it.” Hisoka stands and crosses the space to pause in front of Illumi. He moves his hand up to cup Illumi’s right ear. The blood pools in his hand. He looks mildly aroused at the sight. “I’ll clean you up.” And he licks his own hand clean - Illumi half expects him to lick the ear, too. Instead he pushes Illumi onto the couch and strides off to fetch first aid supplies.

Hisoka straddles his lap to do the cleaning up. The wound at Illumi’s ear is complicated and bleeding heavily. Hisoka’s pink tongue pokes out in concentration. Slowly, Illumi reaches a hand up and traces the prominent abdominal muscles at Hisoka’s stomach. “I can’t hear anything,” He purses his lips together. “In my ear. I can’t hear anything at all.”

Hisoka doesn’t pause or react in his work. The blood no longer drips from Illumi’s ear. “Good thing you’ve got two of them.” He leans back and surveys Illumi with his softened yellow eyes. This is as tender as it will ever be between them - Hisoka, half naked, half hard and perched in his lap with blood on his long fingers. 

Illumi surges forward and kisses him. It seems to be the only possible thing to do. He tastes of blood and bubblegum. After the kiss, Hisoka smiles. “Lovely thing.” He murmurs. “We’ll call Machi in the morning. I wouldn’t be surprised if she can’t fix your ear. We can’t have you wandering around lop-sided.”

Illumi nods mutely. He hooks his arms around Hisoka’s hips and pulls him forward. Right now, he’d like to bury himself in some, warm cloying earth to put himself to sleep for a while. This, though, is a close second best. Hisoka’s heavy and familiar weight resting on him and the metallic scent of blood surrounding them.

“You can wash my hair.” Illumi says quietly. It isn’t a request but he knows that Hisoka will be only too happy to do it, since Illumi usually likes to take care of his own hair and Hisoka rarely gets the chance to get his hands on it. “There’s blood in it.” He doesn’t like the sticky hardening feeling of it. Hisoka smiles. If it wasn’t for the blood, Illumi’s bland eyes and typically haunted expression, and Hisoka’s gore-induced half erection - they could be a normal couple taking care of each other.

“Anything for you, my sweet.” Hisoka kisses Illumi’s forehead. “Anything at all.”


	2. Chapter 2

There are corpses in the main room of Hisoka’s apartment: two of them, wearing mafia suits. They look long dead. Blood has been soaking into the cream carpet for an hour or so now. Illumi closes the front door and steps around the mess with a daintiness he must have picked up from Hisoka.

The magician himself is nowhere to be seen, but Illumi can feel the heaviness of his aura emanating from the apartment’s kitchen. It’s the aftermath of his bloodlust, which Illumi judges safe to approach. In a moment he’s standing unobtrusively in the kitchen doorway, peering in. Hisoka is sitting on the counter, covered in drying blood and gore. He’s wearing his stupid outfit (That Illumi himself certainly has not emulated) and his makeup is still perfect despite the other messes littering his skin.

He’s eating the kind of macaroni cheese that comes out of a box. It looks disgusting but he seems to be enjoying it. Hisoka is always hungry. Illumi suspects it’s something to do with his starving childhood. He himself never went particularly hungry (although his food was often poisoned) so it’s not something he understands.

“Did you get paid for those kills?” He asks flatly. He’s never quite sure when Hisoka’s on commission, or just on a rampage. He isn’t surprised when Hisoka shakes his head to say no. He puts aside his now empty bowl and swings himself off the counter in one lithe movement. He has the coiled power of a tiger, which Illumi is shamed to admit he enjoys. He enjoys many things about Hisoka but he keeps them to himself. For the best.

“I got lonely.” Hisoka stands in front of him, not using the two or three inches he has on Illumi to his advantage. In fact he’s trying to make himself smaller, hiding his thick biceps behind his back and lowering his chin almost to his chest. For a strange moment Illumi is reminded of his grandfather.

“I wanted to play a game.” Hisoka purrs petulantly. “But they broke so easily, those two. Just like all the other toys... Except for you.” He looks at Illumi with his narrow golden eyes. Illumi is so very jealous of those eyes, so full of life. Maybe one day he’ll pluck them out and keep them as a souvenir. But not now. Not for a very long time.

Hisoka looks like he can read Illumi’s thoughts because the corners of his mouth twitch up. He’s still half mad with a murderous euphoria. “When I die, I think I want it to be you.” He says, like he’s considering every word with care. “Yes. I want it to be you. You can give me an exquisite death, can’t you? You’ll make me something to remember.”

Illumi feels his lips part, the closest to surprised he’s been in a long time. Hisoka is waiting patiently with heavy eyelids. He’s just declared himself to Illumi in the most succinct, obvious way. This is his I Love You. Illumi watches him with dead eyes, watching the twitch of blood in his veins. Hisoka’s aura is a beautiful flaring mauve. He wants to kill again, but he’s waiting.

Illumi finally reacts and presses his still open mouth to Hisoka’s lips, his jaw, his neck. Hisoka moans and grips his hips like a vice. He lets Illumi crowd him into the kitchen counter until he can barely breathe. His perfectly styled hair falls under Illumi’s grasping hands.

“One day I’m going to kill you.” Illumi says as calmly as a southern wind, pressing his hand into Hisoka’s windpipe. The magician looks up at him with brightened pupils. That’s the answer he wanted to hear and if he could moan again, he would. He hisses instead, long and luxurious. When Illumi jams a knee between his legs he makes a sound like a wounded animal. He’s revelling in every second of Illumi’s well-contained violence.

When Illumi eventually releases Hisoka, they’re both bleeding and bruised. Hisoka’s white harem pants are more soiled than before, this time from the inside. He slings his arms around Illumi and kisses him sweetly, like they haven’t just been clawing each other like lunatics in a dark kitchen.

“Darling. Sweetheart. My own one.” He purrs. Illumi raises an eyebrow at the endearments. He likes them, but only because they’re coming out of Hisoka’s mouth. Magician that he is, he can make his words as attractive as a lump of sugar. Now Hisoka is looking at him like he’s hungry again. Illumi expects it won’t be synthetic pasta this time.

“Let’s play a game.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for brief mentions of child prostitution. Thanks for all the nice feedback so far!

Illumi gets the impression that Glam Gas Land had not been a good place to grow up. While Hisoka hardly ever delved into his own past, there had to be a reason that he’d become the way he was. Illumi had pieced together snippets: starving, living off the bubblegum he could steal without anyone noticing. His mother teaching him card tricks before she was murdered by a drunken client. Hisoka, aged barely 13, taking over from her - aided by his exotically pale skin and the ethereal expression in his eyes. After that, the circus troupe. Illumi has the scanty details and he doubted he’d ever learn much more.

His own childhood had hardly been normal. But he’d always had enough to eat, toys to play with when he was little and beautiful clothes to wear. His mother and father loved him and did everything in their power to make him strong. The training had broken him, of course. But that was his own weakness, not his family’s fault. He can’t imagine a world in which he’d ever be forced to prostitute himself, just to stay alive.

He wonders what Hisoka would be like with a normal kind of mind. Weaker, for sure. He can’t imagine the shock of pink-red hair and the golden eyes working at a cafe or in a bank. The very thought is absurd. Even now, when Hisoka does look almost normal under the protection of a deep sleep.

He’s lying on his stomach with one hand tucked under the pillow. Illumi doesn’t think he can be dreaming - he’s seen Hisoka in the throws of a nightmare. His aura is more terrifying than ever. Now he’s simply calm, breathing in quietly and never moving an inch. Illumi thinks it’s a beautiful sight. He doubts that many people have seen it and he counts himself lucky. He likes to watch Hisoka, although he would never admit it aloud. Likes to watch him eat, sleep, fight and fuck. But a sleeping Hisoka has the advantage of being quiet, allowing Illumi to think.

He’d like to save child-Hisoka from whatever it was that happened to him. Go back in time and scoop the pale child from the streets of Glam Gas Land and take him back to the Zoldyck manor. Dress him in one of Kalluto’s little outfits and give him stuffed toys to play with. Hisoka is the only person Illumi has ever wanted to save. He loves the man lying there beside him almost as much as he loves his family.

When Hisoka has nightmares he cries behind his closed eyes. The tears leak out and he sniffles like a baby. A sharp contrast to his terrifying aura, ripping around him like a storm of pain and rage. Illumi doesn’t wake him from those dreams, out of a selfish kind of desire. Because when Hisoka eventually jolts awake, he crawls into Illumi’s arms and stays there until dawn. It’s the only time when Illumi feels that he’s taking care of Hisoka. When he feels truly needed.

Hisoka opens his eyes slowly, pink tongue poking up wetting his sleep dried lips. Illumi doesn’t do anything to hide the fact that he’s been watching for most of the night. Hisoka withdraws his hand from beneath the pillow, stretching his body out like an animal. His hand creeps up, curling around Illumi’s neck. It isn’t a strangle-hold or a grip, just a warm pressure. An invitation.

Illumi sighs and reaches his arm around Hisoka’s slim waist, tugging the weight of him closer and closer. Hisoka hums, sounding far too pleased with getting his own way. By the time Illumi gets them both comfortable, Hisoka is splayed out completely on top of him, nuzzling into his neck. Illumi closes his eyes and lets Hisoka’s weight squash him down into the mattress. He feels warm, just like he’s buried deeply under the heated earth. It’s a wonderful feeling.

“My Illumi.” Hisoka murmurs against his neck, even as he’s drifting off to sleep. Illumi keeps his eyes closed, lips parted and his breathing even. He doubts that he will fall asleep and yet he is relaxed, more so than usual. 

This is what Hisoka does to him.


	4. Chapter 4

Illumi isn’t a normal person. This, Hisoka knows more than almost anyone else. Illumi is so damaged as to almost recognisable as a human being: broken and crudely stitched back together. The experiment-child. The perfect child. The disgusting child. Hisoka knows how the Zoldycks see Illumi. He isn’t little Killua with his strong will and his ever growing potential. He isn’t even Kalluto - who had the sense to get out. Illumi is a mottled image and a broken thing. That’s exactly why Hisoka loves him.

Hisoka isn’t interested in his own past. He isn’t particularly interested in Illumi’s either, except for a feeling of rage that consumes him if Silva Zoldyck’s name ever comes up in conversation. Hisoka loves his Illumi as he is but there is one small part of him that wishes his beloved could have suffered a little less pain. Hisoka daydreams about killing Illumi’s mother and father. It’s a pleasant little fantasy. While Hisoka was being twisted into his own kind of madness by men twice his size, Illumi was suffering the torture of his own family. At least Hisoka doesn’t remember the faces of the men who stole his soul. They’re dead now, anyway.

And for all of that abuse, the empty eyes and the strange desperation to cling onto his semblance of a family, Illumi Zoldyck curls up at Hisoka’s side with deadly looking needles, and he knits. Last time he made a tea cosy. This time he’s making socks in a garish pink wool which Hisoka admires greatly. They’re watching a documentary presented by an insipid looking beast hunter. Hisoka has his long arm draped around Illumi and in the reflection of the huge window before them, they look like normal.

Hisoka laughs deep in his throat. Illumi elbows him hard in the ribs. “Be quiet, I want to hear about these talking snakes.”

“They’re not talking, they’re imitating.” Hisoka reasons, tugging Illumi closer and kissing his neck. “Am I not more interesting than a snake who can copy the human voice?”

“Some might say that you and the talking snakes have a lot in common.” Illumi grumbles, never dropping a stitch in his work. Still, his leg drapes delicately closer to Hisoka’s own. The thrum of his pulse and the steadiness of his hard muscle forces Hisoka to relax inch by inch. Illumi quietly puts down his knitting and turns his body inward. His cool hand rests on Hisoka’s stomach, rising and falling with each breath. “If you fall asleep here, don’t expect me to carry you to bed.” 

Hisoka laughs once more, because the mental image is amusing. Illumi has the strength to carry three times his own weight, but Hisoka is bigger and broader than his lithe little assassin. “You’re so mean to me. But of course not, my love. You do know how much I love it when you’re mean.” He murmurs. Illumi smells of blood and yarn, surprisingly intoxicating. “Thank you for the socks.”

Illumi grumbles something about not assuming that they were even for him, but Hisoka doesn’t really hear. He’s thinking about the way Illumi will carry him off to their bedroom later, no matter how faintly ridiculous they’ll look. And how they’ll wake up together on rich cotton sheets to face a new day together. Broken and perfect for each other. It’s horribly domestic, but in a few weeks they’ll drift off their separate ways. Illumi always has work to do, and Hisoka has his own occupations. He doesn’t like to see Illumi returning to his family and everything it means. But taking Illumi away from his parents and his purpose would be too cruel even for Hisoka to do.

And he’s comforted by the fact that they’ll be back together again, after weeks and months have passed. Hisoka will wear his new socks at every opportunity and Illumi will condescend to have his hair brushed and plaited. They certainly never will be normal but this is happiness for them.

He licks Illumi’s pulse point just because he can, and closes his eyes. Happiness doesn’t come from earning it, but from looking for it and finding it, no matter what form it takes.


End file.
